


Protection

by stitchcasual



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen, Introspection, bait and switch quest aftermath, first (second) meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 23:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20236513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchcasual/pseuds/stitchcasual
Summary: "Fenris doesn’t see Hawke for nearly two weeks. He’s not sure what he expected, if he’s honest with himself.... Fenris thought he’d shown himself to be a capable fighter, proved his worth in deed and word, but when Hawke doesn’t return, he doubts."Or, a look into Fenris's mind after the events of Bait and Switch and before Hawke comes to ask his assistance on another quest





	Protection

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fenris fanzine, Na Via Lerno Victoria  
I'm so honored to have been a part of this! You can check out other works from the zine [on tumblr](https://fenriszine.tumblr.com/)

Fenris doesn’t see Hawke for nearly two weeks. He’s not sure what he expected, if he’s honest with himself. Hawke had been forceful with his opinions and greatsword but nothing else, had not demanded more of Fenris than he offered to give. Had, indeed, seemed to share Fenris’s mistrust of mages, despite his party containing one who looked much like him, a sibling, perhaps. Hawke had flirted, briefly, and left after securing Fenris’s future assistance in payment for services rendered. And then, nothing. Fenris thought he’d shown himself to be a capable fighter, proved his worth in deed and word, but when Hawke doesn’t return, he doubts.

He has little enough to occupy him that evening after Hawke walks off, and passes the time pacing through the mansion, threatening the shadows and flinching at every creak and moan of the settling timbers. No matter how many glances he casts over his shoulder, however, he finds no tiger, only the illusion of one, but he knows from experience how powerful illusion can be. Illusion is what keeps him up at night, what wakes him before dawn in a cold sweat, what haunts his heels no matter where he travels.

Illusion is what Hawke dissolves into with the dawning of the sun as Fenris runs his hands over the railing of the main staircase. It seems a dream, the events of last night, the house around him the only proof it wasn’t. The rage demons left scorch marks on the floor; the shades collapsed into piles of ash. Hawke’s sword decapitated a bannister. Fenris kneels to retrieve the piece of wood from the floor, staring at it where it rests in his lyrium-lined palm then setting it with painstaking accuracy back where it came from. He sees a few bolts in the wall, though the dwarf looks to have salvaged as many as possible before exiting the mansion, leaving a number of holes behind.

Fenris performs drills and stretches in the empty foyer, alert for any sound at his door. He paces again, peering at the framed paintings in the main room, but he doesn’t leave the immediate vicinity of the front door. He naps on the cold floor, though not soundly, waking without resting. Hawke could return at any moment, and it would not reflect well on Fenris if he were not immediately at his disposal. When the sky begins to lighten on the second day and there is still no sign of Hawke, Fenris clears off the bed upstairs farthest from the door, sets his sword close at hand, and sleeps.

He eats from his dwindling stores once he wakes and makes a decision: He has claimed Danarius’s mansion as his own now, however ill-advised that may be, and it behooves him to uncover everything he can about the place, whether or not Hawke comes back. It would not do for him to walk into a trap Danarius left that they’d not sprung when they searched for him, and it pleases Fenris to take something that once belonged to Danarius and make it his own. This mansion will be his home territory when Danarius comes for him again, not the other way around.

The rest of the first week spent waiting for Hawke he searches the house, examining every centimeter of the place and learning the position of each body decomposing on the floor. If nothing else, he will be able to tell if anyone besides himself enters, and that is the first small comfort he has. He finds nothing in the house to indicate that Danarius has another squad of hunters on retainer in the city, which matches the intelligence he’d gathered before hiring Anso. It’s not enough to let his guard down, he will never be able to do that until Danarius is dead, but it is at least reassuring to know the threat has passed for the moment. He can estimate the time it will take for news of the hunters’ presumed demise to get back to Tevinter and a new band sent out, and he sets the count in the back of his mind. Perhaps he will request Hawke’s assistance again, should the hunters come before Fenris’s obligation to Hawke is done.

He thinks too much of Hawke in those days, as he sifts through chests of bric a brac left behind by the mansion’s last occupant. Hawke is a mercenary, of that Fenris has no doubt, but what kind remains to be seen. All he knows is what he saw and heard that night, but that isn’t enough to satisfy him. Anso would not have hired anyone too heavily involved with Kirkwall’s main gangs, Fenris knows better than to invite that sort of scrutiny, but Hawke has obvious fighting experience and the two he brought with him to clear the mansion complemented his strengths and bolstered his weaknesses. He may not be affiliated with any of Kirkwall’s groups now, but he learned from somewhere.

During the second week, Fenris spends some of his evenings wandering Lowtown, staying to the shadows of dingy buildings where he is less likely to be seen. He overhears a few rumors but nothing of as much substance as he’d like, not nearly as much as he needs in order to more fully understand what kind of man he has, in a sense, thrown his lot in with. He learns that Hawke was with the Red Iron for a year, has only recently left their employ. This helps sketch out some details on him but leaves other holes of information he can’t fill. Why did he leave? What made him join? 

He hears derogatory remarks made on the subject of Hawke’s heritage, Ferelden, and more than enough conversations that harp on the negative consequences of allowing refugees into Kirkwall. Fenris disappears soon after that kind of talk gets started, even if he knows the citizenry here would pose no challenge to him should he be confronted and need to fight his way out of somewhere. He possesses the skills, but he doesn’t need trouble with the locals on top of the hunters now that he’s living here for the indeterminate future. In the Imperium, Danarius never concerned himself with subtlety; living on the run, Fenris has learned. He’s had to.

In total, he uncovers enough about Hawke to piece together a rudimentary image of what kind of man he is: brusque, competent, focused and driven, willing to take risks provided the coin is good enough. In other words, a mercenary. Mercenaries Fenris has dealt with before, and given sufficient incentive they can be trustworthy enough, presuming one doesn’t share overmuch information with them and expect it to stay secret. He has, perhaps, given Hawke more information than is wise, and he can only hope it is in Hawke’s best interest to not spread it around. Fenris will have to find more coin; silence can be bought. But not if he never sees Hawke again, as it seems increasingly likely will be the case, the more days that pass.

Hawke comes to his door a few days after Fenris has begun to think he never would. In truth, he’d been mulling over seeking Hawke out himself that morning. It could be seen as too presumptuous and grounds for punishment or dismissal, but he finds that possibility preferable to the alternative he’s lived through these last weeks of not knowing. Or perhaps Hawke intended all along for Fenris to be the one to come to him, and Fenris has failed in this first, most simple task. There is but one way to find out, so he straightens his spine and shakes his head and opens the door.

Hawke isn't even the first person Fenris sees: he's standing ten paces away, looking back out at Hightown as though he expects an attack at any time, even though Hightown is the quietest place Fenris has ever lived, at least during the day. Varric is the one closest to the door, and he grins amiably at Fenris. Between Varric and Hawke is a new mage, not the one from earlier, and Fenris narrows his eyes, examining the tall, blond man for any hint of malintent.

Hawke turns when Varric greets Fenris, the dark braids that line his skull whipping free around his shoulders today, and strides back to the door, large and imposing in his armor but not leveraging it. Right now, anyway. He nods by way of hello and says, “I've got a job, and Varric won't go if you don't come.”

Fenris blinks.

“I recommended you bring another frontline fighter,” Varric responds, looking up at Hawke and speaking slowly, as if to a child, though he hasn't stopped smiling. It’s a smile that says he knows more than anyone else present and likes it that way. “There were options.”

“Aveline's busy and Isabela's drunk. Come on.” This last is directed to Fenris, Hawke's deep brown eyes meeting his steadily.

Fenris considers saying no, to see what would happen. His conversation with Hawke the night they chased Danarius’s ghost seemed to indicate that Fenris is not completely at Hawke's beck and call and can pick and choose what to assist with. However, he is also alone in Kirkwall and only eluded the last group of hunters through allying himself with this strange warrior and his mercenary band. He needs the additional protection Hawke offers and can ill afford to offend him and lose that, especially now that he’s been reassured of it with Hawke’s presence.

“I'll get my gear,” Fenris says, though he’s almost fully armed and armored as it is, and turns aside. He can hear voices drifting through the open door once he's out of sight and slows his steps to listen.

“I don't know why you didn't ask Fenris first.” Varric. Contemplative. Openly accusing Hawke. Is that allowed?

“I forgot he was here.” Hawke. Blunt. Unapologetic. Fenris can hear the shrug as bits of Hawke's armor click together.

Fenris braces himself on the wall, eyes unfocusing. It should be a relief to hear Hawke say that. Perhaps if Hawke, who spent several hours in Fenris's company, can forget about him, then he's not as noticeable around here as he feels. Except that Varric obviously remembers him enough to remind Hawke of his existence. So he's not hidden. Not that he'd assumed he would be, after removing the last band of hunters, but he’d allowed himself a bit of foolish hope. 

Hope aside, he had ultimately come to the conclusion that Hawke must have been making him wait for so long to test him and his commitment. It is nothing Fenris isn't used to, Danarius would do the same thing, but Fenris had rankled at the idea that even here, so far from Tevinter, he would face the same treatment. And yet Hawke sounds honest…which either means that he is truly so forgetful or that he's very good at lying. Fenris isn't sure which he'd prefer.

When he returns, sword at his back and the last of his armor donned, he sees Hawke has again taken up the sentry position he'd been in when Fenris first opened the door. The action sings of paranoia, a familiar feeling to Fenris these last few years. What does Hawke have to be on the lookout against? Fenris presses his lips together. Everything he learns about Hawke complicates the picture of him in his mind.

“Walk up with me,” Hawke says, barely moving his head to speak to Fenris. Something in Fenris bristles at the calm authority in Hawke’s tone; the rest of him obeys, shutting the door without locking it. There's nothing inside worth stealing that he cares about.

Hawke starts walking before Fenris even reaches his side, moving slower at first so Fenris can catch up before lengthening his stride to what it must normally be. He glances over at Fenris, taking in his armor and weaponry, and nods to himself.

“Here's how this works: No survivors. Valuables are split sixty-forty, sixty to the expedition, forty to be distributed among the party. Four is a good number for us, not too large to draw too much attention, large enough to deal with most issues. Any coin is distributed the same way. I can't promise you'll make a lot of gold, but you should have enough for food, lodging, whetstones and oil, that sort of thing. Tell me if you don't.” The last statement is an order rather than a request, and Fenris adds that to the complicating elements of Hawke. He sounds utterly matter-of-fact as he speaks, yet that last indicates an underlying...compassion, perhaps, for the people he takes with him in his work.

“Weapons and armor are on a rotating system. You and I agree on what it means to have good taste in weapons, so,” Hawke shrugs to indicate the greatsword strapped to his back, “next sword we find in decent shape is yours if you want it. One after that is mine. Questions?”

Fenris glances over his shoulder at Varric and the other one. “Do you work with mages so frequently?” 

Hawke looks back and snorts. “Right. That's Anders, you haven't met him yet. He's here because it's cheaper to threaten him into healing than it is to buy potions.”

“I'm right here!”

Hawke doesn't respond to Anders's indignant squawk, just points with his left hand to a corner he means to take, and Fenris follows the direction without comment until they've gone a little way into the Hightown market.

“Do you trust him?”

“Anders?” Hawke snorts again. “Not farther than I could punch him. He's a remarkable healer, but he's lied to my face several times already and I met him just before I met you.”

“And yet you associate with him.”

“Like I said, he's a good healer, and I fight hard. It suits my needs to keep him around and out of the Gallows and he knows it. He won't cause me trouble if I'm his protection.”

Fenris stiffens, though he keeps pace with Hawke still. If Hawke notices that Fenris drifts a handsbreadth away, he doesn’t mention it, just continues walking and pointing directions when necessary. Hawke doesn’t speak much once he’s finished explaining how he runs things, and Fenris takes the time to think.

He will respect Hawke’s decision when it comes to Anders, though it unnerves him to have an unknown, and untrustworthy, mage at his back. Hawke has a cool practicality in his justification for bringing him, and Fenris admires the pragmatism in it even as he wonders if the same has been applied to him. Hawke has neatly tied Anders’s abilities as a mage and his continued freedom to Hawke’s own survival; surely Fenris’s markings, which have been used in a similar capacity before, will be leveraged against him as well. Yet Hawke has said nothing of the kind to Fenris as he has to Anders. Hawke appears genuine, not the type to leave others laboring under misconceptions, but Fenris can’t help but be suspicious of him. Those who appear trustworthy rarely are.

Moving along in Hawke’s wake, Fenris studies him: his movements, his bearing, the way his eyes track the streets they walk, the snap of his head toward any unexpected sound. He’ll keep a close eye on Hawke as their arrangement goes forward, watch him for any sign he may not be what he seems to be. He hopes he is. Fenris has spent too long staying alive by mistrusting everyone; he would like to believe in someone. But he knows better than to blindly follow.

He has promised Hawke aid until this expedition but has said nothing about afterward and doesn’t intend to. That will make it easier to cut ties and continue on his own, if Hawke proves to have hidden malicious designs. Assuming Hawke speaks truly about splitting any coin they come across in the meantime, Fenris can save some away; he’s used to living lean. It would be unfortunate to leave the consistent shelter provided by the mansion, but he is not overly attached to Kirkwall, no more than any other place he has lived while on the run. And however beneficial it may be to move in a group to deter hunters, he can be his own protection again.


End file.
